A Christmas Present
by MissScorp
Summary: Sometimes the best present is not gift wrapped


**A/N:** Hello again m'dears! Hope the holiday was good to you.

Reviews are dearly cherished :)

**S/N:** I am operating in the timeline that this is still very early in Batman's career, that the bat-signal has not been created yet and he has just taken Dick as his ward.

* * *

_December 25th_.

Winter had come to Gotham.

This was a natural occurrence. In this part of the country, every season brought new wonders and joys to her city. It was either late or early Christmas morning (depending on your interpretation) and Gotham was the very picture of what she supposed wonderland would look like. The cobblestone streets were covered in a thin blanket of snow, the windows of the homes and businesses frosted over with smoky webs of frost. Colorful lights twinkled from rooftops far and wide, glittered from dark business signs, shimmered inside store windows and were strung among the light poles. The spruce and pine trees of the Thomas and Martha Wayne Memorial Park had been draped in holiday finery, each of the trees decorated by one of the schools in the city's school boroughs as part of a large community project to restore the grounds to its former glory. In the distance she could see the 100-foot artificial evergreen in the middle of Gotham Square standing like a beacon against the smooth velvet of the night.

All across Gotham, stockings had been hung by mantles with care, all with the hopes that a jolly fat man in a sleigh soon would make his deliveries there. Children were snuggled, all warm in their beds, all with visions of holiday booty dancing in their heads. Mama's and papa's were stowing away all the leftover tubes of gift wrap, and hoping like anything they'd be able to get in a short little nap before the festivities would engulf them in holiday madness. Oh yes, on the outside, Gotham indeed looked like a city slumbering peacefully, and just waiting for the new day to begin.

Nine-year old Raya Kean-Berkeley, however, knew well that looks could be deceiving, especially in a city constantly caught between the forces of good and evil. She knew shady deals were going on at that very moment in the darkest corners of the city. She knew violence was being perpetrated behind closed doors in Gotham's East End and the Bristol District. She knew about the underground most people in this city didn't even suspect existed. She only knew about it because a year ago (on that very night, in fact), she'd been drug into that sick and twisted underworld by the very people who were supposed to be cleansing the streets of those who run that secret society. As she stood on the roof of the GCPD building in the Burnley district, Raya found herself thinking back upon Christmas past. She remembered last year with a mixed bag of feelings-most of them negative. Raya suspected it was a night she would remember for the rest of her life.

The only good to come from that night was that _he'd _rescued her from the forces of evil. Like an avenging angel garbed in black armor, his cape swirling like a matador's about his muscular frame, he'd swept into the room where she was being held and trounced the bad men who held her hostage. Oh yes, she thought with a tiny sigh which had her breath steam white in the cold air, Batman became the Knight in shining black armor to a little girl who had not thought such mythical heroes even existed.

Her hero was why she was standing on this roof in the middle of the night, in fact. Cat like eyes shifted to stare at the searchlight which stood a few feet away from her. There was no _official _way in which to make contact with Batman. Her Knight tended to make contact with her uncle if he felt such communication was warranted, or needed. But it was Christmas, and their special anniversary at that and so she had bought a very special present she wanted to give Batman in order to celebrate the event. To achieve her end goal she'd created a special symbol she'd affixed to that klieg spotlight in order to call her hero here, to the roof of the GCPD building.

There was a sound, much like the flapping of angel wings from behind her. She turned and saw him standing there by the searchlight, a larger than life figure who struck terror in the hearts of the bad people threatening to corrupt this city with their filth. She watched him trace the bat shaped emblem she'd made out of clear plastic with one gloved finger before he turned that cowled head towards her.

"Did you do this?" he asked in a low, throaty rasp.

Drawing a small breath, feeling a tad bit shy now that she was face to face with her hero, she looked up Batman. And smiled, unaware that the light of her happiness filled her pixie face with a glow he found sweetly enchanting. A glow he, dark and tortured warrior he was, wanted to capture in the palm of his hand and hold forever. A child's trust, especially from one struggling with trusting men after the harrowing experience she'd endured a year ago, was a gift to be cherished.

This little girl had become bound to him the instant her tiny arms wound around his neck and clutched him tight. He allowed her some leeway because of the fragility of the bond they had forged the night of her kidnapping. Gordon had not hinted at such, he would never so much as whisper a word otherwise, but he'd long suspected the relationship the girl had with Matthew Berkeley was less than the typical one most little girls shared with their father. He'd known Matthew Berkeley since his own boyhood; knew the man was a cold, insensitive brute who liked tormenting and torturing those people he felt were beneath him. A child, especially a girl child (which Bruce heard Berkeley despised for having been given) would most certainly be unworthy of his lofty notice.

He thought the man an idiot for seeing someone as sweet and precious as this girl as being beneath his notice.

He crouched so he was at eye level with her. She was so unlike his new ward, he thought while staring into those jewel toned eyes. Dick Grayson was full of life and a restless energy that had him flitting around the Manor like a bird. He was always quick with a wise crack, generous to a near fault and in possession of a warm and giving heart. He'd weathered the tragedy that had blown into his life by standing strong like a palm tree even though the hurricane like winds threatened to bowl him over. This young girl on the otherhand was reserved, her face a perpetual mask which revealed none of her inner thoughts or feelings. Spontaneous laughter or jokes did not trip beyond those flesh toned lips very often. She did not exhibit normal childish exuberance or rambunctious displays of youthful impetuosity. She was a nine-year old girl who acted more like a woman going on twenty.

That was why he did not scold, nor reprimand her for utilizing such a manipulative method in order to call him there to her. It would fracture that fragile trust, and slice wounds into a heart that was already scored by a dozen such marks. If Bruce was being honest, really honest with himself, then he would admit that Raya's hero-worship (which he knew well that this was) was a balm against the anger and grief simmering deep in his soul. Having her trust him, having her unwavering faith and belief that he was a protector, had gone a long way in soothing the tensions between him and her uncle. However, she couldn't be allowed to think she had open access to him whenever she so desired it.

"Where is your uncle, Raya?"

A frown puckered her brow. "He hasn't returned from the Asylum."

"And he left you alone here at the GCPD?"

"He said I would be safer here with Detective Bullock than I would be going on a ride-along with him."

That made sense to Bruce. Arkham Asylum was barely safe for men like him and Jim Gordon. It was certainly no place for a little girl. Least of all with a man as dangerous as the Joker on the loose.

"Did you call me here because you were worried about your uncle?"

She shook her head. "I wanted to give you a present."

Black brows shot up beneath his cowl. "A present?" he intoned in a soft rumble. "You wanted to give _me_ a present?"

She nodded her head, offered him a shy smile. "Uh-huh."

"Why?"

"'Cause it's Christmas..." He saw the flicker of uncertainty, the shadow of fear and doubt and ached for it. He ached for _her_. Someone had hurt her, and deeply. He vowed to find out who that someone was and make them pay for it.

"Where is my present then?" he asked, smiling softly.

Immediately, her face brightened and she handed him a prettily wrapped package with a scarlet red bow. "Merry Christmas," she said in a sweetly soft and bashful voice.

_So unlike Dick, _he thought again as he opened the package. Inside, set upon filmy white tissue paper was a small black flash drive. His electric eyes gleamed with speculation as he picked up the small device and studied it.

"The new codes for accessing the GCPD mainframe are on the flash drive," she told him in a hushed whisper. His eyes lifted, studied her.

"You stole these?"

Her lips twitched and there was a slight hint of childish mischief lurking within her gaze. "Uncle Jim said we were _propagating _them for the greater good."

He swallowed a laugh as he tucked the flash drive into a pouch on his utility belt. He was about to discard the box when he caught sight of a bat shaped item nestled among the delicate folds of paper. He slowly lifted the button shaped object from the box and studied it. It was heavy, and obviously made of some type of metal-he suspected silver, with three onyx bats set in an ivory moon. It was a significantly symbolic piece, and not one he'd ever anticipate a child understanding, much less choosing to give as a Christmas present. _Then again_, he thought as he traced his thumb over the onyx bats. _Most children were not quite as intuitive as this one_.

"The Chinese regard the bat as a symbol of good," he told her quietly. "And jade a symbol of justice."

Her lips curved, warm with affection. She'd known he would see the meaning of her gift, that he'd understand it. "Batman is Gotham's symbol of good. He is our justice."

"Some would say I am part of the problem and not a part of its solution."

"I'd be dead without _you,_" she retorted with a set to her jaw which reminded him so much of Gordon. "_You _saved me. _You _took down the cops who were supposed to be protecting a kid like me, not trying ta kill me."

He was surprised to find he was greatly enjoying himself. Different from his ward? he mused as he cocked his head to the side and studied this diminutive little pixie. Yes, she was definitely quite different from his ward personality wise. However, there was one common thing they shared in great abundance: intelligence. She was easily as smart as Dick Grayson, and just as capable of processing information and theories people three times her age struggled with understanding. Part of that he credited to her having been homeschooled by some of the finest tutors money could buy. The other part he knew came naturally. Her reserved nature masked a natural curiosity. _Gordon said her first word was why,_ he thought as the ghost of a smile flitted across his long lips. _And that she's not stopped asking it since._

Briefly, he considered introducing his ward to this little sprite. Dick needed friends, and she needed someone her own age to bring her out of her shell. It was a good match, he realized. What the other lacked was what the other possessed in great abundance. They could help each other, he mused now. They could be the wall standing against the onslaught of the storm brewing upon the horizon. He made a mental note to speak with Alfred about his thoughts. _Not that I don't know what he will say already._

He saw her stifle a yawn. "Bedtime, imp," he said.

She shook her head. "Not sleepy."

"If you don't go to sleep, Santa won't come."

"I do _not_," she retorted huffily. "Believe in Santa Claus."

Bruce started at that. What kid at her age didn't still believe in Santa Claus? The answer came back a simple one: a kid who has lost her innocence. The thought made him more sad than it did angry. _Well_, he decided, _there was something he could do to fix that_. He reached out and cupped her cheek in the palm of his glove.

"Do you think your uncle will mind if I take you somewhere?" he asked. "I want to show you something."

She smiled, the light of her earlier happiness again filling her face with that glow he found so enchanting. "He won't mind," she said. "He knows I am safe with you."

"Then hold onto me and tightly."

She wound her arms around his neck without a moments hesitation, holding on as tightly as she dared without constricting his breathing. A lock of her dark hair tickled his cheek as he stood with her in one arm and fired his grapnel line at a point only he could see. Then they were airborne, and the feeling of flying like a bird had a gurgle of laughter spilling from her lips. Hearing that gay little sound sent an arrow of light piercing through the dark to warm his heart. Her smell, a mixture of baby powder, fresh snow and holly and pine weaseled its way into his memory. It was one among only a handful of good memories he was in possession of. A reminder there was still light in the world, and a reason for why he'd taken up his nocturnal profession.

If Matthew Berkeley couldn't see what a gift this girl was, then he was more than just an idiot in Bruce's mind. To him this girl was a gift, and her love and trust the greatest present a father could ever hope to receive. He ignored the pang of envy which started in the pit of his belly and spread upwards to his heart. She had a father, he sternly told himself. Maybe not a good father, but Berkeley was still her father nonetheless. Yet he couldn't deny what he was thinking, or how he felt. No more than he could stop breathing.

Five minutes later they were standing on a ledge high above the city of Gotham. The city was still the winter wonderland she'd thought it was. From this distance she could see every island, and every borough. They were pristine looking, clean as the fresh snow which had fallen and coated the ground. Then the first streaks of color announcing the arrival of the dawn began to gallop across the sky, and the pale burn from that magical fire spilling across the snow turned the city into a golden paradise.

"Oh, wow," she breathed on a reverent whisper. "The city looks so beautiful."

"Yes, it does." He agreed with a nod. "No matter what evil taints the city during the night, she's reborn every morning."

"Kinda like the phoenix, Gotham rises from the ashes." She angled her head to look up at him; saw him nod and smiled that brilliant smile once again. "Merry Christmas, Batman."

He tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "Merry Christmas, imp."


End file.
